Stiles Laws
by hbrackett
Summary: My contribution to the world of Derek Laws and Sheriff Laws...kinda fluffy, not my usual style but I wanted to give it a try since I got so much enjoyment out of my fellow authors works. Its obviously Sterek, so be warned.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N – So I love Derek Laws by agentdouble0negative2 and Sheriff Laws by HalfDrunkMonkey, and I decided to do Stiles Laws. I want to point out that I was majorly (made up a word, such is the power of chaos) inspired by these two and their wonderful creative exploration of one of the more fascinating pairings in Teen Wolf, and I would never have thought of any of this without them. Please read (and review) their work!**_

"Behold, the fearsome Alpha werewolf!" Stiles thought as he watched Derek sprawled out all over Stiles bed in just his boxer briefs (black, of course), face down with an arm hanging to the floor and snoring to wake the dead. The bed looked like it was the site of a gang initiation that got out of control. There was absolutely no room for Stiles anywhere in his own bed, and this was in direct violation to Stiles Law # 3: 'Stiles' bed is his Sacred Place, and must always be ready to receive his Holiness should he choose to respire there'. Stiles took out his Blues Clues notepad and oversized pencil (the Sacred Recording Instruments of Stiles Laws) and added a subsection to one of the tiny areas of paper not already filled with his Commandments.

'In the event someone violates Law # 3, Stiles gets to sleep wherever he wants.'

He stripped down to his own Scooby Doo boxers, yanked the twisted sheets and blankets off of Derek to untie them, and then lay down on top of the Alpha.

"Oof, oh, ugh…Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" came the drugged sounding voice of the Foul Profaner of Sacred Places, Derek Hale.

"Stiles Law # 3. You took over my bed, now you ARE my bed…for eternity!" spake Stiles.

"Your bed is about to eat you, Stiles." Derek growled ominously.

"That's in direct violation of Stiles Law # 2! 'Stiles shall remain uneaten by any member of the Hale Pack, though love bites are allowed with permission of His Holiness."

Derek groaned in mock despair. "I don't like your Laws. Who gave you the idea for them anyway?"

"You and my Dad. His Holiness is sleepy. We can resume discussions at the next Pack meeting, if you remember to put it on the Agenda."

Stiles wondered if Derek remembered Stiles Law # 1: 'All of Stiles Laws may not be altered without permission from Stiles, which he will never give, so there.'

Derek groaned again, feeling like the subject of the famous painting "The Nightmare" by Fuseli, which featured a woman reposing on a bed with a little demon sitting on her chest. If Fuseli could see into _this_ bedroom, the demon would have had Stiles' face. Not thinking he would ever get to sleep, he found himself focusing on Stiles heartbeat and the shared warmth of their bodies, which served to lull him to sleep faster than usual. Derek's consciousness was whipped away like a rag in a tornado, and he woke up the next morning feeling incredible. Thereafter, the arrangement became permanent.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles Law # 12 came into play after Scott injured Stiles while they wrestled out on the lawn. Scott had Stiles in a headlock when Stiles resorted to tickling (forbidden, along with using wolf strength) in order to escape. Scott shoved him away, and Stiles left foot landed in a gopher hole, twisting his ankle pretty badly.

Derek 'accidentally' face planted Scott into the side of Stiles' Jeep when he found out, but his feelings of anger and protectiveness turned to fear when he saw Stiles pull the Sacred Recording Instruments from his knapsack.

Derek lunged for him, but Stiles had already locked himself in the Jeep and was scribbling madly. Derek roared in frustration when Stiles emerged and showed him the newly drafted Law.

'While Stiles recovers from his injury, Derek shall transport Stiles on his shoulders, where he shall make his wishes known from on high. Derek will serve as transport on special occasions even when His Holiness recovers.

At the next Pack Meeting…

"I mean it! Scott, Jackson…no more rough-housing with Stiles! If he gets hurt again, I will nail your pelts to the wall!"

Jackson and Scott were in hysterics, Lydia and Allison were crowing with laughter. Derek was barking out these orders with Stiles sitting regally on his shoulders, sometimes wobbling madly while Derek paced back and forth before the Pack.

Derek let out a loud sigh.

"Sty…I think this Law is ruining my credibility as Alpha."

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Fine. You are excused from your duty for Pack Meetings."

"Thank you, your Holiness." Said Derek though clenched fangs.

{}{}{}{}

Derek got home later than usual from his Saturday night bouncer job, stuck with an extra shift and smarting from a dressing down he got from his boss after Derek 'bounced' someone pretty hard. Derek was on the point of bouncing his boss when he thought of Stiles, and the help this job was going to be for the young man's college fund. He apologized and went to the home he shared with Stiles and the Sheriff.

He thought of his mate with a huge smile on his face during the trip home, which promptly turned into a fierce scowl when he saw a sticky on the bedroom door.

"Derek, a new Law has been drafted (# 20) and entered onto the Sacred Instruments. His Holiness has decreed that when Derek returns home _after _Stiles' bedtime, Derek will be responsible for the cooking and cleaning up of His Holiness' breakfast the next morning.' Stiles will dine at 7:30 am. Stiles wants pancakes, and we're out of them, so you'll have to go to the store before Stiles wakes up. Love, His Holiness, Stiles.

Derek looked at the clock. It was 5:30 am. He was bone tired, and would have to stay up just to go to the store and have breakfast ready on time. Derek's eyes bled reddish light, and his teeth and claws grew with his fury. The Alpha wanted its breakfast right now…Stiles-burgers, with some Holy horseradish on the side. Derek opened the door with an inhuman paw and stalked towards the bed with the innocent looking boy fast asleep on top of it. There in his hands, he clutched the Sacred Instruments…Derek grinned an evil wolfish smile. Tomorrow, it would look like it snowed in the room from the thousands of paper shreds Derek was going to make out of them, and Stiles would see what Derek Hale thought of his stupid Laws. A clawed finger lifted the notepad up…sheer morbid curiosity made Derek read what was on the page before he got started. Three rules occupied the page, the first one about cooking breakfast. Derek scanned the other two, and he promptly shifted human while his eyes started to sting with unshed tears.

Stiles Law # 21: 'With the exception of this Law and the one that follows, Stiles Laws are suspended on Sundays, so that Stiles can return the wonderful treatment he gets from his favorite Alpha werewolf, His Unholy Majesty…Derek Hale.

Stiles Law # 22: 'Stiles will love Derek forever.'

Derek gently placed the Sacred Instruments on the nightstand, and got undressed as quietly as he could. Stiles took up very little of the bed, so Derek spooned into him and held him close while he pulled the blankets over them. As he dropped off to sleep, he wondered what His Holiness would be making him for breakfast that afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N - Thanks so much for the positive responses, especially Woman-of-the-night who is everything an aspiring author could hope for in a fan and a friend. This chapter ended on a more serious note than the last…I'm involved in an anti-bullying project and this was a way for me to vent some of the frustration and anger I feel about some of the cases. I'll try to bring more fluffy back next time. Also thinking of doing a take on Scrooge only with Derek...what do you guys think?_**

'Stiles Law # 25: His Holiness will get to see Derek's hair with no product in it.'

Stiles made sure no one was looking before tearing that page out of the Sacred Instruments. He was still shaking from the sight.

{}{}{}{}

(New) Stiles Law #25: 'His Holiness will one day get to jump down the Hale family staircase.'

"Stiles, there's no way you could do that without breaking every bone in your body. Derek Law # 98 AND Sheriff Law # 114 both explicitly state that 'Stiles shall avoid any activity where he might get hurt!'" Derek growled.

"You're right. No more sex then." Stiles walked off. Derek ran to catch up with him, a panicked look on his face.

"STILES! That is soooo not fair. Look, if I could find a way for you to do it safely…then you can do it."

Stiles grinned. "It's easy. I could do it if I were a werewolf. Scott's done it. You've done it twice. Even Jackson has. It's like a club that I'm not allowed to join."

Derek ran his hands through his hair. "Sty, we've talked about this. I don't want to turn you into a werewolf."

"Why are you so against it? You don't think I'd be good at it or something? Or would you hate that I wouldn't be so much weaker than you anymore?" Stiles' face lost its characteristic humor, and he looked more serious than Derek had ever seen him.

"It's not that! You have a life to live! You have hopes and dreams! This…tends to consume it all! Why do you think I work a crappy job as a bouncer, because I find it spiritually fulfilling? I can't hack school with the wolf always struggling to get out, and if you think it's hard to concentrate with ADHD, you haven't seen anything yet! It means _no career ever_! Jackson and Scott are lucky; Jackson's rich, and when Scott marries Allison, he will be too! Maybe someday, when you've got yourself where you want to be, we'll talk about it.

"So, you'd turn me if I were rich?" Stiles persisted, confused. Derek groaned. He wasn't getting the point.

"I don't want you to look back and see me as the thing that ruined your life…like Scott does." Derek whispered. He didn't want to argue, but his mind was made up.

"You didn't turn Scott!"

"No, but I took away his chance to be human. He will ALWAYS resent me. I'd feel more comfortable turning you when you've had a chance to follow your path."

"I thought my path was with you." Stiles said softly before walking out of the burned house to his Jeep.

Derek ran after him and caught him before he could lock himself inside. Stiles struggled, face red while he pounded on the Alpha's chest until Derek brought him back inside and began mounting the stairs. Stiles stopped struggling.

"Derek, what are you doing?" Stiles asked. The look on the Alpha's face was indescribable.

"Showing you that your path IS always with me. Let's fulfill Stiles Law # 25."

They reached the top of the staircase, and Stiles looked down at the frightening drop.

"Oh, God no, Derek, don't!"

"Sorry, as it was written, so it must come to pass!" Derek intoned.

Derek got a running start and leapt into space. Stiles screamed the whole way down, until they slammed into the floor at the bottom. Stiles had his face buried in Derek's shirt for almost five minutes before he recovered enough to look around.

"I think…I think…Stiles Law # 25…is satisfied…forever." he squeaked in a high pitched voice.

{}{}{}{}

"Stiles Law # 28: Derek shall not interfere with His Holiness' video game sessions.

"Sty, really this video game obsession has to stop. You're at 3 hours per day now!" said a growling voice from behind Stiles.

"Can't talk. I have 124 Riddler trophies left to find. Sorry Der, I have final exams this week and this is how I get my mind off them." Stiles continued to send Batman hurtling madly through the Arkham City skies.

There was the sound of clothing hitting the floor. "Maybe this can get your mind off them."

Derek stood in front of the tv screen. Somewhere in the video game universe, Batman silently plunged to his death into the freezing Arkham City Bay. "The Joker couldn't do what you just did, you realize that? You killed Batman!" Then Stiles forgot all else as he took in the vision in before him.

_A week later._

Stiles Law # 29: Derek shall not _usurp_ His Holiness' video game sessions.

"Really? The Legend of Zelda, Twilight Princess? Are we 12 years old, O fearsome Alpha?"

"But Sty! You never told me Link was a _werewolf_ in this game!"

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Of all the Derek Hales in the world…_you_ are the Derek Haliest.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles Law # 48: Derek must wear a Halloween costume that goes with His Holiness' choice of theme.

"I am NOT wearing this." Derek growled.

"Look, I'm shaving my head, so the least you could do is wear what I got you!" said Stiles as he took in his new bald look. He put on his yellow shirt with the zig-zag stripe.

"Couldn't I be the guy that plays the piano?" Derek whined. Stiles could tell he was weakening.

"Nope. Charlie Brown doesn't hang out with _Schroeder_, he hangs out with _you_!"

Finally he caved, as Stiles had always known he would, and Alpha-Snoopy accompanied him to Jackson's party.

"If any of the Pack laugh…" Alpha-Snoopy's eyes flared crimson as they walked in the door.

"They'll be in the doghouse?" asked Stiles, pinching his cheek.

There was a growl and then a chomping sound and a short Stiles screech.

Stiles inspected his bleeding finger. "Guess I'll get to jump down the Hale family staircase after all."

{}{}{}{}

In accordance with Stiles Law 32, Derek took Stiles out to clubs two weekends out of every month to go dancing and have fun away from the Pack and Beacon Hills, just the two of them. All eyes in the club were on them, due to the extreme hotness Derek seemed completely unaware he possessed. His eyes never left Stiles, despite the large number of girls and guys that flirted with him. Derek always became more affectionate than usual when he had a few beers in him, so they almost always left the club holding hands.

"Look! Fairies on our turf!" came a voice that both of them ignored. Five wannabe street gang initiates had settled on the pair as their targets of choice, loosely surrounding them.

"I had a really great time tonight." Stiles said, giving Derek's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Me too. Love you, Sty." grinned Derek. "I'm really sorry for biting you, by the way."

"Awwww, they wuv each other!" came a second voice. This one swung a bat menacingly into his palm.

Stiles grabbed Derek's jacket and pulled the lycan seductively towards him for a brief kiss. "It's not like I didn't want it."

A third thug made retching sounds.

"At least now I don't have to hold back with you. I can slam you into walls anytime I want to…speaking of which, the one in that alley looks perfect." Derek ground himself against Stiles, who growled low at the contact.

"We are gonna slice you two fruits up…like fruit!" The fourth thug was rapidly opening and closing a pair of butterfly knives, a little puzzled that their two victims hadn't even acknowledged their impending doom yet.

"Before we get to that…we may need to enforce Law # 19." Stiles pointed at their audience.

"Law # 19? That was from when we left the house a mess…oh…I get you." To say that Derek's grin became wolfish was no understatement.

The fifth thug, a man of few words (he simply did not know that many), stepped forward and swung an iron pipe at Stile's head. The teen caught the pipe without looking at it, wrenched it out of the other man's grasp so suddenly that the thug's wrist snapped, and then proceeded to twist it into a heart shape for an amused Derek. The thugs shouted in fright as two pairs of glowing eyes (one crimson and one golden) regarded them with all of the cold calculation of predators far more lethal than they.

Within ten minutes, Law # 19 was fulfilled and five bruised, broken, mangled and terrified thugs were locked in a packed and evil-smelling dumpster with a heart shaped piece of iron securing the lid. A sticky note on top proclaimed the Sacred commandment for all to see.

'Always put trash in its place.'


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Damn, after seeing the infamous 'pool scene' I sat down and wrote this, and let me tell you I am going into sugar shock at how fluffy this was. I guess it's because I feel bad for what I'm about to do to my guys in my other stories…but oh well. Hope you enjoy, get ready for some lethal 'dawwwwwness'.**

_**Stiles Law # 66: To celebrate His Holiness' High School graduation, Derek shall buy something shiny for His Holiness with his new inheritance money.**_

"A disco ball wasn't what I had in mind, Derek." said Stiles, looking at the glittery globe with distaste. About a quarter of the glass squares had fallen off, and the rest looked ready to jump ship at any time.

"Next time, be more specific with your Laws." grumbled a distracted Derek. He was over-seeing the reconstruction of his house, and only growled a little bit when Stiles christened the dwelling 'Castle Sour'.

Stiles peeked at the construction plans before Derek crumpled them and gave him a warning growl, but it was too late.

"Oooh, what's that thing at the top? Your 'Tower of Brooding'?"

"_Stiles…_"

"Wow, you could give Glaring lessons to the Eye of Mordor, you know that?"

"Nevermind what that thing is, and thanks for the compliment. I want the finished house to be a surprise, so no more looking at plans and you and the Pack have to stay away for the next month."

"I should totally write a Law that overrides that!" Stiles grumped.

"You could, if I hadn't taken the Sacred Recording Instruments and hidden them."

Stiles was speechless. Well, almost.

"You can't do that!" he sputtered.

"There was no Law against it." Derek said with a wolfish grin.

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The house was completed in just over a month, and Stiles had to admit it was worth the wait. The stone structure was made to look like a Byzantine castle from the exterior, giving the forest around it the look of a medieval wood where any fairy tale you could imagine was likely to happen.

Derek opened the solid iron-bound front door and led the Pack inside. The place was huge, and the furnishings were designed to keep the feel of a medieval castle although it had all of the modern conveniences. Reproductions of the famous Unicorn Tapestries hung on the stone walls, interspersed with coats-of-arms and all sorts of mounted medieval weaponry.

"Guess the Renaissance Fair had a big impact on you, huh Derek?" asked Lydia quietly. She would never tell anyone that for a brief moment, she pictured herself coming down the grand staircase in a pink princess outfit with a pointy hat and veil.

Derek looked at his watch.

"You guys explore. I want to show Stiles something…alone."

"I'm pretty sure he's seen it already," Jackson smirked.

Seeing Derek's expression, Jackson face-planted his _own_ face into the nearest wall.

"There, satisfied?" he whined, rubbing his bruised nose.

Derek rolled his eyes.

While the Pack went off to explore, Derek led Stiles to the third floor where a wrought iron spiral staircase led up to the mysterious tower.

"Go on, go up! It's almost time!" Derek prompted.

Looking nervous, and wondering if this were some kind of torture chamber, Stiles clambered slowly up the stairs.

"Oh…oh wow…"

The tower room was an enormous master bedroom and bath with a giant four-poster bed made of dark oak dominating the room. The most wonderful thing about it were the four huge windows that gave a panoramic view of the forest all around the house. The room filled with a bright and baleful red light, as if there were an enormous Derek outside Glaring in at them. A circular balcony surrounded the tower, and they exited onto it. The most glorious sunset ever was happening right before their eyes, the enormous crimson ball seeming to light the very trees on fire as it sank below the western horizon.

"You said you wanted something shiny…this was the biggest thing I could find." Derek whispered in his ear. Stiles felt Derek's strong arms encircling him from behind. He was led around the balcony to the far side. As the sun disappeared, a million stars sparked into life in the cloudless sky, and the pale light of the rising full moon grew brighter as they watched.

"That's yours too." said Derek, pointing at it.

Stiles choked up, too moved to speak. He cried silently, and clutched Derek's hands tightly in his own, and together they watched the moon float upwards to dominate the sky with her presence.

"I want to see this with you every day and night for the rest of my life." Stiles whispered.

"That's the plan. You're 18 now. Move in with me."

"But Derek…what about college?"

"I know college comes first…and I know you got accepted to Berkeley. What I'm asking is for this to be your home, the place you always come back to. All of this is for you."

"But…but what about my Dad? I can't leave him…"

"I already spoke with your father. I offered to let him move here too…but believe it or not Stiles, he has some living to do for himself. He put off a lot of things to raise you and make sure you turned out all right, and now…well let's just say that you and Scott are going to be brothers even more than before."

"No way…my Dad and Scott's Mom? That's…that's…"

"Unholy." finished Scott as he came up the stairs with the rest of the Pack.

The others explored the room and marveled at the design, circling around the balcony at least three times and overdosing on the view.

Derek took Stiles' hand and led him down the staircase and showed him the rest of the house; the spare bedrooms for the rest of the Pack, the game room, the kitchen, the library, the art gallery, the music room. It just seemed to go on and on.

"Derek, it's just too much. I can't take it all in…"

"I've heard that before. And believe me, you can." Derek quipped.

"You've got jokes, Mr. Alpha. Watch it." Stiles elbowed him in the ribs.

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After the Pack went home, the two retired to the bedroom once more where they lay just staring at the hunting scene painted on the ceiling (a different kind of Hunt, with enormous wolves chasing hapless hunters that looked suspiciously like some members of the Argent family).

Derek reached over to his nightstand and rummaged around. Stiles' heartbeat quickened as he guessed what would happen next. But he was wrong.

Derek handed him the Sacred Recording Instruments. "Here. Any new Laws you feel like drafting?"

Stiles turned and dropped them into his wastebasket. "No. There is absolutely nothing I want to change."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Sterek Vacation…**_

_**A/N – Recently flew to Las Vegas, and kept wondering how Stiles and Derek would deal with what I had to. Hope you enjoy. I owe some inspiration to the game Infocom game 'Bureaucracy' by Douglas Adams and musician/comedian/actor/talk show host Henry Rollins. No Laws in this chapter, but just thought it fit here.**_

Stiles had been to Disneyland several times, but now he was finally going to see Disney World in Florida for the first time ever, courtesy of his newly rich Sugar Alpha, Derek Hale. Stiles wondered if he could talk Derek into a trip to EuroDisney one day…not bloody likely considering how much the mere idea of a 7 hour flight was roasting his nerves.

_***Check-In***_

"Where's the flipping ticket counter?" growled Derek. "Where's the damned white courtesy phone?"

The airport was huge, and apparently designed by the same guy who trapped the Minotaur in ancient Crete. Signs directing one to the appropriate airline ticket counter were completely misleading, and had sent them back and forth nearly the length of the whole airport several times. Good thing Derek was paranoid and got them to the airport three hours in advance.

A voice was heard over the PA system. _"Will Mr. Aaron A. Aaronson please pick up the white courtesy phone?"_

Derek growled, his eyes flashing crimson as he hauled his enormous suitcase around in a circle (his Alpha strength making it seem feather-light. Stiles' puny Beta strength was barely able to budge it).

Stiles was wise to the ways of airports. "Derek, look at the three signs over those three corridors. What do you see?"

Derek Glared at the signs. "Two of them say "Delta Airlines, and go in opposite directions! That's why we've been wandering around for an hour!"

"What does the third sign say?" Stiles asked patiently.

"Every airline BUT Delta Airlines!" Derek shouted.

"Then that is the way we must go! Come, my Padawan Learner."

Derek rolled his eyes, and prepared to argue with his mate that if they were wrong this time, they would surely miss the flight.

Within two minutes, they arrived at the Delta Airlines ticket counter.

They were fifth on line, and none of the four people in front of them showed any concern about boarding on time.

"Sir, do you have your ticket confirmation and a photo ID?"

Guy #1 began rummaging around in his pockets. "It's here somewhere…"

Derek ground his teeth so hard, Stiles was sure broken pieces of fangs were going to be spit out any second.

Guy #1 finally produced his paperwork and was sent on his way with his boarding pass.

A voice was heard over the PA system. _"Will all passengers boarding Flight 1949 for Orlando please pick up the white courtesy phone?"_

Guy #2, having learned nothing from Guy #1, waited until he was asked the same question by the ticket lady to begin searching for his paperwork. Derek was clutching theirs, and Stiles hoped there wouldn't be too many claw-holes in it when it was their turn.

Guy #3 had his ready, but there seemed to be an issue, because the ticket lady left to speak with a supervisor.

Derek groaned.

A voice was heard over the PA system. _"Will the passenger who left a pink flower patterned suitcase sitting in the food court please pick up the white courtesy phone? Your suitcase is ticking."_

The ticket lady returned from communing with her gods and Guy #3 was given his boarding pass.

Guy #4 suddenly looked around himself. "Oh, excuse me, I'm in the wrong line." He walked off.

"Sir, do you-"

Derek slammed everything down on the counter, and watched with grim amusement as her lackeys struggled to check in his enormous suitcase.

A voice was heard over the PA system. _"Will anyone who knows where the white courtesy phone is please pick up the white courtesy phone?"_

_***The Metal Detector***_

Derek had prepped Stiles before they left the house. They wore no belts on their shorts, wore shoes that easily slipped off and on, and any and all objects they were carrying were stored in Stiles' carry-on before they even approached the metal detector. No metal was to be found anywhere on their persons. Derek already had his shoes in his hands and was ready to drop them in the bin and jet through. Stiles had his shoes and carry-on, ready to follow his mate without even breaking pace.

Guy #1 was there ahead of them. Derek wondered (a bit psychotically) how the guy had gotten in front of them if he was always so goddamned slow.

He put some things in the bin on the conveyor belt and tried to walk through the metal detector.

"BEEP!"

"Sir, do you have anything metal in your pockets?" asked the guard who should have been tasering him before hauling him away.

"Oh, I think I have some keys." He pulled an enormous ring of keys out of his pocket. Was he a fucking jailor?

He walked through.

Guy #2 also set off the detector.

"Sir, do you have anything metal in your pockets?"

"Oh, I think I have some change…" He pulled out a sack containing maybe three months worth of laundry quarters.

Derek thought bleakly that if he were suddenly to shift into his Alpha form, he would still **not **be the oddest person here.

_***The Moving Sidewalk***_

The moving sidewalk is a wonderful invention that lets people significantly increase the speed of their walking with little effort, a marvel of ambulatory efficiency. Why people chose to disgrace the moving sidewalk, its inventor, and the entire human race by standing there like freaking bumps on a log was beyond Derek. They blocked it up completely, preventing normal sane people from getting past. Mothers held the hands of small excited children, elderly folk clutched bags and leaned heavily on the railings to enjoy the sight of the airport slowly moving past them.

A voice was heard over the PA system. _"Delta Flight 1949 for Orlando begins boarding in five minutes."_

Derek looked at the moving sidewalk and growled.

"Derek, don't!" Stiles hissed, panicked.

PEDESTRIANS P.O.V.

The moving sidewalk was especially pleasant today. The speed was steady, and perfect. The usual mechanical buzzing noise was absent. Everyone seemed to be in just the most sociable and pleasant frame of mind as if they were a community unto themselves, a utopian society almost.

The ground began to shake.

Excited children looked around, and clutched their mother's skirts.

The shaking became more pronounced.

The elderly peered around, just as the black tornado with the glowing red eyes barreled through them, knocking them aside and sending their briefcases and bags on a short and explosive trip through the air which their owners also took part in half a second later.

A smaller tornado with golden eyes followed after, apologizing profusely for the behavior of his larger more violent companion, and was gone before the debris of the exploded baggage fell to the floor.

_***Boarding (Alternate Title: The Value of Silver)***_

"We did it! We're on time!" Derek was ecstatic.

_'Now boarding our Diamond Members. Please step up with your boarding pass if you have our exclusive privileged boarding Diamond membership."_

A few extremely snooty people boarded the plane.

'_Now boarding our Platinum Members. Please step up with your boarding pass if you have our exclusive privileged boarding Platinum membership."_

A few slightly less snooty looking people boarded the plane.

"What membership do we have? Aluminum?" asked Stiles.

"Silver." grated Derek. Allison had booked the tickets. Derek never realized she was funny.

'_Now boarding our Gold Members. Please step up with your boarding pass if you have our exclusive privileged boarding Gold membership."_

The least snooty people boarded the plane.

'_Now boarding First Class. Please step up with your boarding pass if you have a First Class boarding pass."_

More passengers got on.

'_Now boarding Business Class. Please step up with your boarding pass if you have a Business Class boarding pass."_

Yet more passengers got on.

'_Now boarding Coach. Please step up with your boarding pass if you have a Coach boarding pass."_

Almost everyone else got on. Derek and Stiles were standing there for about 45 minutes by this point.

'_Now boarding our elderly or infirm passengers, parents with infants, children traveling alone, veterans and military. Please step up with your boarding pass if you meet one of these criteria."_

The parents with kids and the elderly were just staggering up after recovering from the massacre at the moving sidewalk. They all hobbled painfully onto the plane.

"It was him!"

"What a mean man!"

"Oh, my hip! The pain, the pain!"

"Mommy! Is that the Boogeyman? Is he going to fly with us?"

The clerk was just about to close up the line when she glanced at Stiles and Derek. "Oh! You two must be our privileged Silver members. In you go!"

_***The Flight***_

"*Sigh*" said Stiles forlornly. He gazed out the window of the 747, already missing home. There was no response from the Alpha. The freaking out had started after they finished watching the passengers who were too chickenshit to check their bags and were trying to fit overseas steamer trunks into the compartments…that's when it had finally dawned on Derek that they were flying on a plane. Stiles noticed that his forehead was sweating.

"I SAID '*_SIGH*'_ with impassioned tristesse!" Stiles grumped.

Derek was almost distracted from the rictus of terror he was trapped in.

"What the hell is 'impassioned tristesse' and why are you sighing about it when I'm here about to have the werewolf equivalent of a heart attack?" he grated.

Stiles noted that the Alpha's claws were imbedded into the armrests, which were starting to warp under the tremendous strength he was using to crush them. "It is a powerful and complicated form of sadness, the way ennui is a powerful and complicated form of boredom. Put away the claws."

"I can't."

"Let go of the armrests."

"I can't."

"Stop making your forehead sweat."

"Stop telling me to stop doing things, or I will _eat_ you in a powerful and complicated way, and then think of a word that means that."

"There are already four. Gluttonously, ravenously, voraciously and edaciously."

"_Edaciously?_ Why do you know that?"

"I got bored and read a Thesaurus one day."

Derek groaned. "I can't do this. If werewolves were meant to fly, we would have been vampires."

Stiles looked out the window. "Um, you do realize the plane hasn't started moving yet?"

_***The Flight, For Real***_

Derek was trying really hard to sleep. He pictured sheep jumping over a fence…no dice. He pictured Argents instead, leaping off of a cliff into a lake of fiery lava, and that seemed to work. His eyelids grew heavy…

"Excuse me, would you like a refreshing beverage?" asked a blue-haired old stewardess who might once have voted for Abraham Lincoln.

"No, thank you." Derek closed his eyes.

"Chicken salad sandwich?"

The eyes snapped open. "What?"

"Would you like a chicken salad sandwich?" she asked again. "We usually have them on white or wheat."

"I'd like a white one." piped Stiles.

"We're out. We have wheat though."

"Oh, no thanks." Stiles settled back down.

"_Nothing to eat or drink for me."_ Derek growled. He closed his eyes again.

"Lemon soaked paper napkin?" asked the stewardess.

_***The Mile-High Club***_

Derek had just fallen asleep when the Pilot activated the PA system with a loud crackle.

"FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE NEW TO FLYING THE FRIENDLY SKIES, BELOW IS THE GRAND CANYON…AS SEEN FROM 35,000 FEET!"

"GAAAHHH!" gurgled Derek.

Stiles looked out the window. A solid bank of clouds prevented any sighting of the canyon. The Pilot must be some sort of sadist.

Derek plugged his headphones in and searched for a movie that could help him cope with his fear of flying.

"_High Anxiety. Vertigo. Nightmare at 20,000 feet. Final Destination. Snakes on a Plane!_ Screw this!"

Derek unbuckled his seat belt and lurched up the aisle towards the restrooms. The Alpha's scent was alarming; Stiles needed to do something to save the lives of every passenger on this plane, and also keep the two of them from arousing the suspicions of whichever one was the U.S. Air Marshall. Plus, he was feeling frisky. He counted to ten, then unbuckled his seat belt and sniffed out the restroom Derek had fled to. He knocked gently on the door.

"Der? You okay?" Stiles whispered. He knew Derek would hear him.

A low growl emanated from the lavatory.

Stiles checked to make sure there were no witnesses.

"Open up. I want us to join a club."

"_A club? _Oh…that club." The door opened, and a clawed hand quickly pulled Stiles inside. Stiles soon decided that Derek had earned Platinum Membership.

_***About Safety…***_

Derek (in a much calmer frame of mind) perused the Safety Instruction Card located in the pocket of the chair in front of him.

"Stiles? Why is this thing telling me about rafts and life jackets when we are flying over land? Where's the goddamned parachute?"

"There isn't one. But the seat cushion can also be used as a flotation device."

"So can your head."

"No jokes about my head, or it will be the last time you get any."

Derek decided to remain quiet.

_***The Wonderful World of Reading***_

Stiles brought two books to read for the long flight, one recommended by Lydia and one by Derek. Now would be the time to see which of the two people he had ever loved knew more about his reading tastes.

He read the summary of the first book from Lydia: 'Dream Boy'. Hmmmm. 'Shy boy experiences sexual awakening in the Mid-West when he falls in love with the farm boy next door. At first awkward, the romance builds to a climax when the two share their first real kiss. Then the shy boy is inexplicably murdered by another mean kid for no reason, and everyone in the town is miserable.'

Stiles tossed the book into a wastebasket on a passing snack trolley, and looked at Derek's book next.

'The Forsaken Boy: Shy boy experiences sexual awakening in the mid-west when he falls in love with an out of town girl. At first awkward, the romance builds to a climax when the two share their first real kiss. Then the shy boy's best friend steals the girl, so the shy boy becomes a werewolf and eats everyone in the whole town.'

"All right!" Stiles muttered happily to himself as he began to read.

_***Baggage Claim***_

At last, the flight was over. Derek was up and out of his seat as soon as the all-clear was given, and he power-walked out of the plane (with Stiles struggling to catch up and pulling the carry-on after him) all the way to baggage claim. He went right to the mouth and waited for the enormous suitcase that held the bulk of their belongings to emerge.

The mouth spit out a few bags. None were theirs.

People began to filter in, and some immediately claimed their baggage.

The mouth vomited up some more bags. About three fourths were claimed.

An hour later, Derek and Stiles were the only ones left. Three bags that no one claimed were just making their thirtieth circuit on the belt. One was describably gray, and the other two were indescribably mauve.

Finally Derek's suitcase emerged. A hopeless and defeated Derek grabbed it with the very last dregs of energy he had left.

The taxi only got lost twice before they finally arrived at their hotel. Derek barely had the heart to slam the head of an unfortunate mugger into a nearby brick wall. Stiles could clearly see that Derek got no enjoyment out of it whatsoever, and that wasn't like Derek at all.

No sooner was the door shut and locked than Derek was sprawled on the bed, fully clothed and snoring within seconds. Stiles sighed and pulled off the Alpha's clothes and rolling him this way and that until Stiles got the sheet and blanket over him. He undressed and joined his mate, a little saddened that Derek was too exhausted to snuggle.

Then a muscular arm wrapped itself around him and pulled him in close to someone who loved him best of all.


End file.
